Chapter 1 Knight

Adrian focused on the single leaf moving between his fingers. It had a yellowish color, near golden. Silver lines flowed from its stem to the very edges of the fragile form. They shimmered in the afternoon sun.

A shiver went through him, brought on by the cold wind that moved over the stone terrace.

“Why am I here?” he forced himself to speak. To voice his thoughts, bring life to them.

The leaf in his hand shouldn’t exist. He knew it like an instinctual truth. Something as certain as the sunrise.

And yet it did exist. It was right there, reflecting the sunlight in its silver sheen. A whole tree was there actually, right behind where he stood. That thing had hundreds of those leaves.

Adrian had considered that this was one of Baxter’s ideas. To get him out of his apartment, have an adventure. He talked about that stuff a lot. Going to Europe or Asia, seeing buildings and cultural sites that dated back to before even Christ.

After around four hours, he was pretty sure his friend wasn’t behind all this. The fucker couldn’t keep a secret for the life of him. Just seeing this insane Gothic castle with thousands of singular spires and just as many elegant windows would drive him nuts.

Adrian smirked lightly, imagining his friend bursting out through the heavy wooden double doors, shouting about some armor or sword he had found.

Nothing of the sort happened however. No Baxter, no kidnappers, no game notification and no demon to welcome him to hell.

All he had was this leaf. It did look nice at least.

He sighed, once more trying to figure out what had happened. He remembered going to bed and falling asleep. There had been dreams. Bad ones.

He had decided not to sleep tonight and instead went for a walk. The thought of visiting Steve had been on his mind, perhaps it was the thing that actually got him out of his apartment in the first place.

After that, nothing. It had felt like waking up in the morning, sore and still tired. His bedside table hadn’t been there and neither the small pink lamp that greeted him every day. I should really replace that one, the bulbs get way too hot after a while, he thought absentmindedly.

He focused again. This wasn’t a prank. Nobody would want to risk the lawsuit associated with kidnapping someone for a show, nobody in their right mind that was. He had dealt with plenty of idiots in his life and if he knew one thing, it was that human capacity for stupid was infinite.

He couldn’t see any microphones or cameras however. No team or catering. All he saw was the rather expansive terrace with a bunch of gnarled old trees, all but one holding no leaves at all. It looked old, ancient really. Untouched and magical.

The one leaf in his hand was impressive but a whole white tree flush with them was a wholly different sight altogether.

He breathed in, once more reminded that it hadn’t been winter and that in the city, air was never this fresh.

And a castle like this would attract tourists from all over, no matter where it stood. Either that or it was owned by a private entity. A very rich individual, a government or a corporation.

The thought of this being some kind of game for a sick sociopath had crossed his mind. Who would really care if he was gone? Baxter? Marco? He didn’t see why.

No matter what it was, he should go in, find out more. He should get water, food and shelter. At least the latter seemed abundant within the massive castle. He couldn’t even see the whole structure from the terrace. And he should get some sort of weapon. A fire axe or a knife, maybe even a gun if there were any.

And yet he didn’t.

He kept standing there, all his willpower needed not to sit down and curl up. Pathetic. The thought once more brushed past his mind. Weak. The familiar voice greeted him with the usual insults. Mundane but still effective.

A part of his mind reminded him of all the stories and shows Baxter had made him go through. Some weird teenagers summoned to other worlds to save the kingdom from a demon plague as well as slightly more creative versions of the scenario.

Most of his rational mind had rejected the idea outright. He knew that no matter how fucked up a trip could be, he wouldn’t imagine a castle like this. It wouldn’t be this clear and neither would he feel the cold wind or be able to think like he did.

It had to be a prank, a show or a kidnapping. Perhaps even some new game console that moved him into some super advanced VR. The latter seemed unreasonable too. Technology wasn’t that far and while he could see some secret military facility developing the tech for one reason or the other, they could easily get thousands of volunteers. Even if they couldn’t, they had soldiers.

It was possible. Maybe it was still unstable, dangerous. They needed some randoms to test it. Again, they could use prisoners or abduct homeless people. Why go after someone with a social security number and a job. People will ask questions. Nothing would happen realistically but if you had the choice between potential questions and none, you would certainly choose the latter.

You’re wasting time. Soon you will get thirsty and hungry. You’re already on your way to get a cold.

He knew those things, of course he did. Many times had he toyed with different survival and apocalyptic scenarios. Realistically, he always thought he’d probably be one of the first to die. He had no weapons in his apartment, other than some cheap knifes that had lost their edge years ago.

His door was a flimsy piece of wood that even the lowest budget zombie could crack open with ease. What he didn’t imagine back then was the permeating fear. The cold sweat rolling down his back and the real possibility of death.

He finally took a step forward. His bare foot moved against the soft earth that covered most of the terrace, put there to root the trees.

The leaf was still in his hand when he found himself in front of the door. More a gate really. It reached up higher than him, at least two and a half meters where the two edges met on a pointy end. Two heavy pieces of wood separated him and the rest of the castle, intricate carvings on each side.

He looked at it but couldn’t grasp its meaning. Perhaps they were letters in a language he didn’t know or the artist just decided to go for aesthetic whirls and sharp turns, all of it adorned with silver thorns. The door smelled of wood, same as most of the terrace.

The handles looked just as beautiful as the railings of the terrace. Hand crafted and made of black steel.

He knew most of these buildings were built over decades or even centuries, usually using slaves and ridiculous mountains of wealth to finish them. Yet even the most impressive castles he had seen, both in real life or on the internet, did not come close to this.

Adrian sighed and clasped the cold handle, pushing it down with little force. The metal groaned but didn’t move.

He pressed harder. This time it worked. The gate was open, unlocked.

Go. Forward.

He listened to his thoughts, carefully pulling back the heavy door. He had to use both hands to move it, the action reminding him of his last training session three or four months ago, he wasn’t sure anymore.

The wood groaned and Adrian decided to keep the second part of the gate closed. The thing was massive enough for him to fit through four times, even with the belly he now called his own.

At least they left me my pajamas, he thought, glad for the shred of dignity his vertically striped blue sleeping clothes provided. Really, just a shred.

He found himself within a vast hallway. Paintings covered the walls opposite him, sunlight shining in from the side he was on, through a dozen windows.

Several closed wooden doors lined the wall, two of them leading out of the hallway on each side. The floor looked to be made of marble or something similarly expensive and shiny. The sunlight made the dust apparent, covering most of the floor, disturbed by Adrian’s steps as he moved inside.

He left the door open, in case he needed to run away from something. Adrian halted, chuckling to himself before he gulped. Did I just really think I was in another world?

The paintings depicted royalty, various people dressed in entirely too decorated clothes of daring colors. Red and gold were prevalent, some few sporting silver too. The artist had certainly known what they were doing, even the faces showing great detail and near photographic quality.

Adrian stood in front of one larger painting, his mind in turmoil. He had been to museums, had seen art from various eras. The massive masterpiece depicted a battle between humans and what looked like Wyverns.

Baxter had made sure he knew the difference between Dragons and Wyverns.

He knew that demons had often been depicted with some artistic choice but the photo realistic quality of this piece made him pause. It looked like something a modern artist would create. With entirely too much funding and time.

The hairs on his neck stood up and he had to take a step back. The implications were, confusing.

Move on, through one of the doors and down to the lobby. The information desk should be somewhere there, he thought absentmindedly and walked to the left hand end of the corridor. His bare feet tapping against the marble was the only sound he could hear.

He found this door open too. A quick glance showed a hall with even more doors to other rooms, as well as a stairwell leading down.

Adrian sighed and looked around with a vary expression. There was still a chance that there was some danger here. His stomach felt heavy, an uneasiness he hadn’t felt in a long time. He usually associated it with stress or fear.

You should get a weapon. Something. A wooden stick or a chair. As well as shoes.

The thought was silly. What he needed to do was to find someone, the janitor would surely help. He had made good experiences with them whenever he visited customers on site.

And still he walked to the door at the very edge of the hall, beyond the stairwell. Something told him it was the right thing to do. To be cautious. A primal instinct perhaps, shrouded and silenced by the comforts of a modern life, now brought back to life by this confusing and unknown situation.

He opened the door and found himself inside what looked like a study. Heavy furniture made of dark wood covered the walls. He saw a massive desk at the end of the room, behind it a hearth with no fire burning within.

The only light came from the hall behind, where sunlight pierced the intricate windows lining the walls.

Adrian looked around but he could hardly see anything beyond the large furniture. There, he found something resting on the wall right next to the fireplace. Something he had seen in movies. Fire iron? He thought of the name but wasn’t sure.

He gingerly walked into the dark room and reached the fireplace, taking the metal piece.

It felt heavy in his hands. The tip ended in a spike but it wasn’t exactly sharp, not intended to be used as a weapon after all.

The weight alone and the make of it gave him some confidence, some control in this weird place he had found himself in.

He moved his eyes away from the weapon and found himself staring at a man, sitting in an armchair in the darkest corner of the room. He could barely see the silhouette but he was sure it was a human form.

Adrian wanted to say something but the words were stuck in his throat. He was by no means a stranger to social situations, even in the past years there had been plenty of meetings, customer visits and events.

Yet here he was, standing in a stranger’s office with a piece of iron in hand and wearing his pajamas.

He coughed and forced a smile onto his face, “I’m sorry, sir. I must have entered the wrong room. Do you have an idea where we are? I must have passed out yesterday.”

Adrian waited for a moment, suddenly hearing a growl. He held his fire iron with renewed vigor and looked on with confusion as the man stood up from his chair. A towering form, even taller than himself, if not by much.

He instinctively stepped back and moved around the table, “I didn’t mean to disturb y-” his voice got stuck as the man moved around the table with heavy footsteps, the sound of steel clinking against steel was quite apparent.

Adrian nearly stumbled over a stray tome before he caught his footing. “I’m just going to leave, sorry f-” he said when the light from outside started to reflect on the man in front of him.

What? Confusion struck him as he took in the sight of an armored knight. Straight out of a museum. He must have wandered into a medieval festival.

“Very cool costume by the way… it looks, heavy,” he said and reached the door as he heard steel slide against something. “Have a good day!”

He closed the door before a heavy impact resounded. A steel blade punched through the thick wood, pointing right at him as it slid back out. The thing had nearly impaled him.

Luckily he had taken a couple steps back from the door already. Why would he destroy his own door? he asked himself.

Run! Something in his mind shouted but he couldn’t move. His heart was racing, his shirt wet with cold sweat as his lips quivered.

Only a moment passed but it was enough for the man to open the door and step out. His armor reflected the light, his whole face covered by steel. He held his longsword with both hands and walked towards Adrian with quick steps.

He staggered back, finding some control again in his mind as the sword slashed the air in front of him. Adrian held up the fire iron in a defensive position.

A slash slammed against the iron, ripping it from his arms as the force traveled through him. The thing clattered uselessly to the marble floor as he fell on his ass.

He watched as the knight approached.

The image of Steve flashed through his mind, loving eyes, his tail wagging with excitement.

Adrian rolled to the side, feeling his belly press against the ground. Steel rang against the floor, the sound loud in his ears before he felt the fire iron with his arm. He grabbed it and held it up again.

The sword came down, partially deflected before it slammed against the ground.

Adrian felt his arms go numb, his lungs burning and tears flowing down his face. “I’ll fucking get that dog!” he shouted and slammed the fire iron against the armored leg with all the force he could muster.

The violent vibration went through his arms and nearly made him let go of the thing. His eyes went wide as he watched the blade thrust into his chest.

He tasted a tinge of iron as he coughed up blood. No, this is wrong.

The pain was overwhelming, coming in a cold wave a moment later. He felt every inch as the sword was removed with a slow motion. The warmth of blood mixed with the smell of piss as he tried to scream, finding himself only able to cough as his lungs were filled with blood.

Adrian’s sight blurred but he felt the second thrust enter his throat. A powerful jab, expertly executed and a blow of certain death. Perhaps he should have taken that boxing training more seriously, not that it would have made a difference against a knight of old.

His sight slowly darkened, the pain still present but soon replaced by an uncaring cold. Everything felt sore and wrong. The end of a miserable streak of misfortune.

Eyes opened wide as his resting heart rate shot up to two hundred, adrenaline pumping through him to make his senses sharpen. The knight, his fire iron, all that blood. He must have survived, must have injured the man more than he had thought.

He reeled back as all the impressions washed over him, stumbling in the soft earth before he lost his balance and fell down. His naked back hit something hard and as he looked up, he saw a canopy of yellow leaves, lined with silver veins.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his voice reaching heights he hadn’t thought possible.

In front of him was the half opened gate of the castle. The place he had just died in.

His thoughts were a downward spiral as he went through all the possibilities, everything that happened, all of it laced with fear and confusion. Tears blurred the edge of his vision but he brushed them off, ignoring the cramps in his stomach.

Focus… shit’s in the shitter… remember when you had the team lead, when you solved problems concerning hundreds of people. You need to calm down and focus.

He still breathed fast but his thoughts seemed more streamlined. He knew this was real. There was no way this was anything but real. The pain, the sword. He thought of something else, looking up to see the leaves as they moved in the wind.

This is real. I died and yet I am alive. This is a cruel joke. Remember, those stupid shows, what did they do. Status.

“Status,” he whispered but nothing happened, embarrassment flashing in his mind but not nearly overcoming the phantom pain he still felt and the fear that coursed through him. His arms shook before he crossed them in front of him, realizing he was naked.

Adrian looked inward, tried to make sense of it as he closed his eyes. A moment later they opened wide. He had found something. Something that hadn’t been there before, something that was part of him as much as his mind and his body. He focused on it.

Soulbound:

Essence – -100

Level – 0

Vitality – 10

Endurance – 10

Strength – 9

Skill – 8

Intelligence – 12

Wisdom – 11

Soul skill – Slot 1

He stared at the words in disbelief. Why me?